Sister, Please Have Some Self-Respect, I'm Your Sister-in-Law - Chapter 9

Autumn in Jiangnan is a season of rain.

The autumn rain fell steadily, pattering softly on the bluestone slabs of the courtyard and the broad leaves of the banana trees, weaving a misty curtain.

The air was thick with the damp scent of earth and the fresh fragrance of plants.

Lin Yuehe stood beneath the covered walkway connecting her courtyard to the main residence, a plate of freshly steamed osmanthus cakes still steaming in her hands. She hesitated.

She had made these cakes with newly harvested golden osmanthus blossoms and the finest glutinous rice flour, putting extra care into them. She wanted Song Qingshuang to taste the sweetness of autumn.

But looking at the relentless rain, she worried about disturbing her peace.

As she hesitated, she noticed Song Qingshuang standing at the other end of the walkway, leaning against a pillar and quietly watching the rain.

She wore a sky-blue silk dress, her graceful figure slightly blurred by the misty air, radiating an indescribable loneliness.

“Eldest Sister?” Lin Yuehe called softly, carrying the plate toward her.

Song Qingshuang turned at the sound of her voice. Her gaze lingered briefly on the fragrant osmanthus cakes in Lin Yuehe’s hands before she nodded slightly. “Yuehe.”

“I made some osmanthus sugar cakes, thinking Eldest Sister might like them,” Lin Yuehe said, offering the plate with a gentle smile. “The autumn rain is chilly. Something sweet and warm will help you feel cozy.”

Song Qingshuang didn’t immediately take the plate. Instead, she gazed at Yuehe’s cheeks, flushed pink from the autumn wind, and those eyes brimming with genuine warmth. For a moment, she remained silent.

Over the past few weeks, this nominal sister-in-law had been gradually infiltrating her once-tranquil life with these subtle acts of care.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, but occasionally this kindness felt heavy, leaving her feeling a little overwhelmed.

“You’re always going to so much trouble for me,” Qingshuang finally said, picking up a small sugar cake and putting it in her mouth.

The cake was soft and chewy, its osmanthus fragrance sweet and delicate. It warmed her slightly chilled fingertips and stomach perfectly.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Yuehe replied, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she watched Qingshuang eat. She picked up a cake herself and took a small bite.

She moved to stand beside Qingshuang, gazing out at the misty, rain-swept garden together. “This rain is so lovely,” she remarked. “The plants and flowers in the garden look so refreshed.”

“Mm,” Song Qingshuang murmured, her gaze distant. “Each autumn rain brings a chill.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, listening only to the soft patter of rain.

The space under the corridor felt cramped with their presence. Lin Yuehe could clearly smell Song Qingshuang’s cool, ink-tinged scent, mingling with the sweet aroma of sugar cakes, making her heart race.

She stole glances at Song Qingshuang’s profile: her cool, refined features, the elegant bridge of her nose, and those pale lips; every detail filled her with delight.

She couldn’t resist trying to strike up a conversation, wanting to prolong this quiet moment alone together.

“Eldest Sister,” she began softly, her tone tentative. “I was reading Miscellaneous Records the other day, and it mentioned the refined practice of ‘brewing tea while listening to the rain.’ ‘I wonder… if on a rainy night we set up a small stove in the pavilion, listening to the rain as we sip clear tea, how utterly peaceful that would be?’

As she spoke, her eyes shone with pure longing, like a child yearning for an adult’s approval.

Song Qingshuang turned to look at her, meeting those clear, earnest eyes. The strange tightness in her chest suddenly dissolved.

That’s right, Song Qingshuang thought. She’s just a simple-minded girl who loves refined things.

Why am I overthinking this?

“It does sound like a refined pursuit,” Song Qingshuang said, a slight smile curving her lips. “Perhaps we could try it sometime when we’re free, on a rainy night with nothing else to do.”

Lin Yuehe’s heart leaped with joy at her response. A radiant smile bloomed on her face, and she nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

Seeing her unrestrained happiness, Song Qingshuang’s heart softened. She couldn’t help adding, “You’ve been making remarkable progress in your studies lately. Your insights are often quite unique. Well done.”

This sudden praise left Lin Yuehe stunned. Then a wave of overwhelming joy and shyness washed over her, her cheeks flushing crimson, even the tips of her ears turning red.

She hurriedly lowered her head, her fingers twisting nervously in her sash, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s all… all thanks to Eldest Sister’s excellent teaching.”

In this flustered, bashful state, she seemed nothing like her usual composed self, which combined gentleness with a quiet resilience. Instead, she appeared endearingly childlike, more fitting for her age.

Song Qingshuang gazed at Lin Yuehe’s flushed ear tips, her elder sisterly affection deepening. She almost reached out to pat her head in encouragement.

But the moment the thought arose, she suppressed it.

Too intimate, improper.

She simply said gently, “You’re the one who’s been working so hard.”

The rain gradually lessened, turning into a soft drizzle.

Lin Yuehe mustered her courage and looked up at Song Qingshuang. “Then… then if I don’t understand something later, can I still ask Eldest Sister?”

“Of course,” Song Qingshuang replied with a nod, her tone matter-of-fact.

To her, guiding her younger siblings was simply her duty.

But to Lin Yuehe, this simple “of course” felt like the most solemn promise, filling her with reassurance and allowing the secret feelings in her heart to grow even more unrestrained.

Just being able to see her often, talk to her, and receive her approval and guidance is already a blessing from heaven, she thought contentedly.

As for anything else… she dared not imagine it, nor could she allow herself to.

After all, this was an ancient world where people devoured each other without mercy, a time of war and chaos. Her inappropriate feelings had no place here.

The rain stopped, and the sky began to lighten.

Song Qingshuang smoothed her sleeves and said calmly, “The rain has stopped. I should return to handle official duties.”

“Okay, Eldest Sister, take care,” Lin Yuehe replied obediently, watching the sky-blue figure disappear around the corner. She didn’t look away for a long time.

She glanced down at the remaining sugar cakes on her plate, her heart softening with a dampness more lingering than the autumn rain.

Some words were destined to remain unspoken, falling silently like the rain, seeping into the earth, never to see the light of day.

After several autumn rains, the weather turned sharply colder.

Lin Yuehe had caught a cold after rushing through the rain to deliver a cloak to Song Qingshuang. That night, she developed a low fever, and by morning, she felt dizzy and weak, coughing incessantly.

Song Zhiyuan dutifully played the part of the “caring husband.” He summoned a doctor early in the morning, ordered servants to prepare medicine, and put on a show of concern for his parents’ benefit.

But behind closed doors, his true nature emerged. He sat on a low stool by Lin Yuehe’s bed, legs crossed, cracking melon seeds and clicking his tongue.

“I say, partner, you’re not exactly robust, are you? Knocked down by a little rain? Still planning to spend romantic evenings with my Eldest Sister?”

Lin Yuehe’s cheeks burned crimson, her body weak and heavy. She glared at him, her voice hoarse, “Stop… making light of this…”

Before she could finish, another violent coughing fit shook her.

Seeing her distress, Song Zhiyuan finally dropped his teasing tone and handed her a cup of warm water. “Alright, alright, drink some water to soothe your throat. The medicine will be ready soon. Don’t worry, I’ve already sent word to Eldest Sister that you’re ill and need rest, so you won’t be disturbing her with morning greetings for the next few days.”

At the mention of Song Qingshuang, Lin Yuehe’s eyes dimmed. She lowered her gaze and murmured a soft “Mm.”

She both longed for Song Qingshuang to know and feared her worry. But most of all, she dreaded the possibility that Song Qingshuang might not care at all.

After taking the medicine, Lin Yuehe drifted into a fitful sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep when, through the haze of fever, she heard muffled voices outside her room. One voice, cool and familiar, made her heart leap. She struggled to open her eyes.

“…Just a common cold. The doctor says a few doses of medicine and sweating it out will do the trick. Thank you for your concern, Eldest Sister.” It was Song Zhiyuan’s voice.

“If that’s the case, I won’t disturb her rest.” It was Song Qingshuang!

Lin Yuehe’s heart leaped. She struggled to prop herself up halfway, weakly calling out toward the door, “…Eldest Sister?”

The curtain was gently lifted, and Song Qingshuang appeared in the doorway.

She wore a simple lotus-colored robe today, without any makeup, her expression tinged with worry.

Standing at the threshold, she didn’t immediately enter, her gaze fixed on Lin Yuehe’s feverish, flushed face. Her brow furrowed slightly.

“Why are you so ill?” Her voice was deeper than usual, carrying a hint of reproach. “If you’re not feeling well, you should stay in bed. What are you doing up?”

As she spoke, her feet moved involuntarily into the room.

Song Zhiyuan, ever perceptive, rose quickly. “Eldest Sister, please sit. I was just about to check on the medicine.”

With that, he slipped out, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Only the two women remained in the room.

Lin Yuehe leaned against the headboard, watching Song Qingshuang approach step by step and settle onto the embroidered stool beside her bed. The cool, refreshing scent that clung to her seemed to dispel some of the sickroom’s oppressive air.

“I… I’m fine, Eldest Sister,” Lin Yuehe said, trying to force a smile, but her coughs only made her look more miserable. “Just a little cold. I’ll be better in a couple of days.”

Song Qingshuang didn’t reply. Instead, she reached out and gently pressed the back of her hand against Lin Yuehe’s forehead.

The cool touch on her feverish skin felt so soothing that Lin Yuehe nearly sighed aloud. She leaned closer to that source of coolness, craving its relief.

“You still have a fever,” Song Qingshuang said, withdrawing her hand. “You need to rest properly and stop trying to be strong.”

Her gaze swept over the untouched bowl of medicine on the bedside table, now lukewarm. She picked it up. “Cold medicine is bad for you. I’ll have them bring a fresh, hot bowl.”

“No need to trouble yourself…” Lin Yuehe protested, but Song Qingshuang’s calm look stopped her mid-sentence.

“It’s no trouble,” Song Qingshuang said, rising to her feet. She walked to the door and quietly gave instructions to the maid waiting outside.

Soon, a steaming bowl of fresh medicine was brought in.

Song Qingshuang sat down again, but instead of immediately handing the bowl to Lin Yuehe, she picked up a small spoon and gently stirred the medicine. She scooped up a spoonful, blew on it carefully to cool it slightly, and then held it to Lin Yuehe’s lips.

Lin Yuehe froze, staring at the spoonful of dark brown medicine and Song Qingshuang’s profile as she focused on blowing it cool.

She had never imagined that Song Qingshuang would personally feed her medicine one day.

But… this was Chinese medicine!

You couldn’t sip it like this!

This stuff was meant to be chugged in one gulp.

But Song Qingshuang was right here. If she chugged it, wouldn’t that be too… bold?

“E-Eldest Sister, I… I can do it myself…” she stammered, overwhelmed by the attention. Her voice trembled.

“Your hands are weak. You might spill the bowl,” Song Qingshuang said calmly, yet with an undeniable firmness. She moved the spoon closer. “Be good and drink it while it’s hot. It’ll help you sweat out the fever.”

That “be good” carried the gentle authority of an elder sister, leaving Lin Yuehe no room for excuses.

I’m going for it!

Her eyes stung with emotion as she lowered her head and, guided by Song Qingshuang’s hand, swallowed the bitter medicine in small sips.

The medicine was incredibly bitter—fucking bitter!

But this was the medicine that Song Qingshuang had fed her, marking the second time Song Qingshuang had taken the initiative to do something for her.

Even if she had to cry, she would finish this bowl of medicine!

Though bitter, it was sweet!

One spoonful, then another.

Song Qingshuang’s movements remained patient and meticulous, occasionally using a handkerchief to gently wipe the corners of Lin Yuehe’s mouth.

The room was so quiet that only the soft clinking of the spoon against the bowl and Lin Yuehe’s suppressed, gasping breaths, caused by the medicine’s bitterness, could be heard.

After finishing the medicine, Song Qingshuang set down the empty bowl and retrieved a small paper packet from her sleeve. Opening it, she revealed several honey-glazed plums.

“Suck on these to get rid of the bitter taste.”

Lin Yuehe took a plum and put it in her mouth. The sweet and sour flavor quickly overwhelmed the bitterness, also suppressing the lump in her throat.

She raised her tear-filled eyes to Song Qingshuang, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Eldest Sister…”

Seeing Lin Yuehe’s fragile state, Song Qingshuang reached out as if to brush aside the sweat-dampened strands of hair clinging to her forehead. Her fingertips paused in mid-air before she ultimately withdrew her hand, saying softly,

“Get some rest and sweat it out. I’ll check on you later.”

“Okay,” Lin Yuehe said obediently, lying down. Her gaze followed Song Qingshuang until she disappeared behind the curtain.

The sweet-and-sour taste of the plum still lingered in her mouth. Lin Yuehe pulled the blanket up to cover half her face, unable to suppress a secret smile. She couldn’t help but think this illness had been… worth it.

Meanwhile, Song Qingshuang stepped out of the room and stood on the veranda, gazing at the fading autumn colors in the courtyard. She gently clenched the fingers that had touched Lin Yuehe’s forehead, the burning heat still seeming to linger on her skin.

She sighed softly, attributing the strange flutter in her heart to mere pity and concern for the sick and vulnerable girl.

But how much of that pity was mixed with a concern she hadn’t even acknowledged to herself? Perhaps even she couldn’t say.

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